


Outside Inspiration

by ravenclawkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkohai/pseuds/ravenclawkohai
Summary: A collection of my FFVII drabbles, written based off prompts I received.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Late night rendezvous: version 1"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sefikura + late night rendezvous: version 1"

              He knew something was wrong the second he entered his apartment. It’d be hard not to, after all; the light in the bedroom down the hall was on. While this initially set him on edge, Sephiroth glanced down to see a familiar pair of shoes next to the door. The building tension slipped from his shoulders. He walked into his living room without turning the lights on, seeing by his eyes’ mako glow in the darkness. He dropped the bag of provisions, maps, and notes onto his coffee table as lightly as he could. Walking on silent feet trained from years of battle, Sephiroth approached the bedroom.

              He ducked around the corner and found the exact sight he had come to expect. Cloud, with a book held loosely in his hand, half-sitting half-laying against a pile of pillows propped against his headboard. Ever since he bought Cloud a PHS, Sephiroth made it a habit to let him know when he would be coming home from missions, and Cloud had responded in kind. Sephiroth felt a knot of unease he never noticed but always felt when Cloud was on a mission dissolve when he received that message. It meant everything went fine, no harm was done, and they would see each other soon. They made it a habit to meet in Sephiroth’s apartment (now that Cloud had a keycard) upon returning from a mission. Sephiroth dutifully waited in an armchair with a book or at his desk getting a head start on his paperwork. Even before Wutai, he had become accustomed to little sleep between missions, training, and paperwork; the late nights and all-nighters were second nature now. This was very clearly not the case for Cloud. He insisted on blaming his cadet training. Sephiroth suspected this was just an excuse.

              After all, if it were not an excuse, would Sephiroth consistently find his lover half-sprawled on his bed with long-neglected reading material, fast asleep?

              Sephiroth was not known as a warm person. He was similarly not known for his smiles. Yet, in that moment, watching Cloud breathe in utter peace, he felt warmth spread through his chest, the smallest of smiles settling on his lips. He walked forward, gently tugging the book from Cloud’s lax fingers to set it on the nightstand. Quickly and quietly, he removed his battle uniform, dressing instead in loose sleep pants. As smoothly as he could, to not jar Cloud, he lifted his lover until he was cradled in one of Sephiroth’s arms. He instantly, instinctively curled toward Sephiroth, cheek nuzzling against his chest. Sephiroth pulled down the blankets and deposited Cloud into the bed. He left to turn off the light that Cloud had left on, quietly padding back to bed to slip in beside the blond. As he had previously, Cloud immediately turned, seeking the safety of Sephiroth’s arms and his warmth. Their legs tangled together, Cloud resting his forehead against Sephiroth’s clavicle. The general tucked Cloud beneath his chin, carefully gathering him into his arms.

              He knew that the next day, Cloud would be frustrated with himself and would apologize profusely for falling asleep _again_. He had yet to wait up long enough for Sephiroth to actually come home. Sephiroth had long since given up trying to convince him that he didn’t mind. In fact, he had come to cherish these quiet moments with Cloud’s implicit trust. Sephiroth was accustomed to being relied upon in battle, at war, with the lives and wellbeing of the army and SOLDIERs alike. He had little experience with trust in his personal life before Cloud entered into it. Or at least, he had yet to know such innocent, inherent trust. Cloud wanted nothing from him in return in these moments. Asleep or otherwise, he simply found safety in Sephiroth’s arms, trusting him without thought. For a man so used to bringing nothing but death with his two hands, these were cherished, almost sacred moments. Cloud could bristle about it in the morning all he liked. Sephiroth could revel in Cloud’s implicit trust, his love, until sunrise, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sefikura + late night rendezvous: version 2"

              Cloud was unsure exactly how he had ended up in the middle of the woods. The last thing he knew, he was snapping upright out of a nightmare, breathing fast. He had been in his bedroll, heard the deep, quiet breathing of his party, watched the remnants of their fire burn deep down into flickering embers. He’d taken a deep breath, deciding to roll over at attempt to return to sleep. Yet here he was, an uncertain distance away from their camp, barefoot, with no weapon to speak of. Between his training with Tifa and his enhancements, there was little that posed a threat to him, but he was loathe to be weaponless, never letting his sword part from his side. So how in the hells did he end up here?

              “ _Cloud_.”

              That would explain it, wouldn’t it.

              Cloud turned, hands raised into fists, snarling, “Sephiroth.”

              The ex-general did little but laugh, walking still closer from the depths of the woods.

              “Is this how you intend to defeat me, Cloud? Barefooted in the middle of nowhere, weaponless?” he countered, a smirk hugging his lips. Cloud matched him, step for step, backing up with twigs snapping beneath his feet. “No, I think not.”

              “You don’t know anything,” Cloud bit, all fire and spite. All fire and spite that drained from him the second his back hit a tree as he watched Sephiroth approached closer and closer still.

              “On the contrary,” he said, snatching Cloud’s fist out of the air the second he had swung his first punch. Without hesitation, determined not to be knocked off guard, he swung with his free fist.

              Which was also caught effortlessly.

              Maybe he needed to spend more time training with Tifa.

              Cloud bared his teeth, pressing forward, attempting to break Sephiroth’s grip even as the man slammed his wrists against the tree above his head. He shifted, one hand holding both of Cloud’s wrists in place easily.

              Cloud hated that as much as he shoved, he couldn’t free himself

              He hated even _more_ that a part of him, a part he had long since laid to rest, very distinctly did not hate it. Enjoyed it, even.

              Sephiroth stepped closer, fitting their bodies against one another as he hooked a finger beneath Cloud’s chin and lifting his face.

              “I know plenty, Cloud,” Sephiroth breathed. “I know that you answered my call and came out here, alone and weaponless, like a good boy. I know that, deep inside, you don’t want to fight me at all. I know that, for tonight, I might even be willing to put aside all that bad behavior of yours.”

              “I wouldn’t call trying to stop you from destroying the planet _bad behavior_ ,” Cloud countered, unnerved to find his voice just as low and intimate.

              “Ah, there we are; I knew you were still the spitfire I remembered,” Sephiroth all but purred.

              “Remembered?” Cloud asked, distracted.

Unfortunately, he only became further distracted as Sephiroth’s head dipped, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

Something that felt strangely familiar in him responded without thought, opening his mouth to deepen the already bruising kiss. Sephiroth’s hand crept up his face, cupping his cheek and jaw possessively. If anything, the gesture spurred Cloud on. He felt Sephiroth explore every inch of his mouth expertly, as if it was familiar terrain. He sucked on Sephiroth’s tongue, earning a light groan, before Sephiroth took to biting at his lips, tugging on them, when his tongue wasn’t in Cloud’s mouth. As they kissed, Sephiroth shifted closer. Their bodies aligned, muscle to muscle, right down to the point where Sephiroth’s knee slid between Cloud’s thighs. Where he moved just _so_ , grinding forward in a way that made Cloud moan against Sephiroth’s mouth. He could feel the smirk spread across those pale lips.

Sephiroth pulled back, releasing Cloud’s lip from between his teeth with a clack. He looked down at the blond, eyes searching for something. As Cloud shifted, moving as subtly as he could against Sephiroth’s thigh, he seemed to find what he was looking for. A look of immense pleasure spread across his face, tugging his lips into a smug smirk. Cloud opened his mouth to say anything he could to get that look off his face (despite the fact that he had little breath left to talk), but was immediately distracted by Sephiroth dipping his head further, that spare hand trailing from Cloud’s face to tug aside the collar of his turtleneck.

Cloud’s head fell back against the tree with a moan as Sephiroth began sucking and biting at his neck.

“Good, puppet,” Sephiroth praised, licking up the column of Cloud’s neck. He moved his thigh just barely, but in just the right way, applying pressure and friction in a way that stole another moan from Cloud. “Very good.”

Too distracted, it took Cloud far longer than he intended to counter, “Not your puppet.”

He didn’t have to look to see that smirk return as Sephiroth said, “Of _course_.”

“Damn you,” Cloud bit, voice faltering half-way through as Sephiroth shifted his weight, pressing his thigh harder against Cloud just as he bit particularly hard on his neck. It stole Cloud’s breath away.

“You’ll have to be more convincing than that,” Sephiroth purred into the shell of Cloud’s ear, tongue lining the edge of it. It sent a shiver through Cloud that made Sephiroth chuckle.

“Bastard,” Cloud said breathlessly, straining forward for what, he wasn’t sure; all he knew was he wanted more and he wanted it now.

“Now, Cloud, where did all that fire go?” he asked, slipping his hand down Cloud’s body, working a red spot high on his neck over, sucking hard, determined to bruise, even if it would fade before dawn.

“I—” was all he managed before Sephiroth cupped him through his pants, just barely squeezing, but it was enough to earn another moan from the blond.

“Not to worry,” Sephiroth breathed, raising his face, smirk evident on his lips, to meet Cloud’s half-lidded eyes. “You have all night to find that fire again.”

Before Cloud could answer, Sephiroth was kissing him breathless again.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to even find a spark of that fire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Puppet!Cloud sefikura + memories"

              Cloud was well aware that his memory was, to be frank, piss poor. This was nothing new—it hadn’t begun with his defection to Sephiroth’s side, wasn’t some sort of punishment or consequence. He knew full well that there were solid years missing from his memory, and had long since made his peace with the idea that he would never quite know what happened during that time.

              What he hadn’t expected was that Sephiroth would be only too happy to fill in those gaps for him.

              He knew what Tifa and the others would think—that Sephiroth was simply making things up, trying to bind them closer together, using the weakness of his memory against him. But they were wrong. They had to be, because every time Sephiroth reminded him of a memory, it came back in full, gloriously entire and completely intact.

              What Cloud didn’t quite know was that those memories they shared were not common experiences between _them_ , but between Sephiroth and Zack. But Cloud, dear Cloud who all but wore Zack’s skin, who was the man in every way that mattered, didn’t need to know that. All he needed was the gentle reminder of a memory and the faith that, when it bubbled to the surface in perfect clarity, it was his.

              Anything to bring Cloud closer. To bind him to his side so strongly that escape vanished from his thoughts. Cloud had already chosen his side, but with those gentle reminders, it was no long a defection, but instead a homecoming.

              “I’m not surprise you forgot,” Sephiroth said. “You were very embarrassed—not that I can blame you.”

              They sat across from each other around a fire, Cloud cross-legged on the ground, Sephiroth on a stump, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. A smile played at the edge of his lips.

              “Still,” Cloud said, leaning forward toward Sephiroth, as if pulled in by gravity. “Drunkenly vomiting on Lazard’s desk is something you’d think would stand out.”

              Sephiroth favored Cloud with a deep laugh—the blond felt it warm him down to the bones.

              “The alcohol itself would be enough to make one forget,” he said. Cloud closed his eyes, focusing.

              It came back in pieces.

              “We were out… for the New Year, weren’t we?” Cloud said, head tilted in thought, eyes still closed.

              “We were; very good, Cloud,” Sephiroth said. The warmth sank deeper into Cloud at the praise.  

              “We went to that little dinner, the one with the moogle mascot,” Cloud said, voice dipping to a mumble in thought, seeing the scene vividly behind his eyelids. “I lost track of my drinks after the fifth shot. We were supposed to have off the next day, everyone was.”

              “That’s right,” Sephiroth said, watching him closely. “What else do you remember?”

              With a chuckle, Cloud said, “I remember you half carrying me back. Someone else, I don’t know their name, they kept asking you if I had alcohol poisoning and if I had to go to the infirmary.”

              “And we didn’t take you, because…?”

              “Because drunkenness earned demerits and, as much as I threw up, that was my only sign of poisoning.”

              “Very good,” Sephiroth praised.

              Cloud’s stomach fluttered happily.

              “You didn’t even want to go out in the first place,” Cloud said with a smile. “I all but dragged you with us.”

              “You did—I never was fond of drunkenness.”

              “We almost got back to your room when my PHS went off. Yours went off just after. You wanted to drop me off in your room but I insisted I was fine. I hadn’t thrown up in a while, I thought I could make it.”

              “And then?”

              “I was wrong,” Cloud said, able to laugh about it now. “Lazard wanted to brief us on an emergency mission for the next day, and he only got half way through it before I got sick all over his desk. Gods, he was livid.”

              “You only got off without demerits because—”

              “Because he said I looked pathetic, that’s right,” Cloud chuckled, a matching smile playing on Sephiroth’s lips.

              “And because it meant I owed him a favor,” Sephiroth finished for him. Cloud opened his eyes with a smile.

              “Not exactly my most shining moment.”

              “No, but the way you kept apologizing was endearing,” Sephiroth said, rising to his feet, coming around the fire. He held his hands out, and Cloud readily took them, climbing to his feet as well. Sephiroth’s gloved hand stroked his face, from eyebrow to jaw, where he took gentle hold of Cloud’s chin, raising it.

              “I’m glad something half-way decent came out of it,” Cloud uttered, a hush falling over them.

              “More than half-way decent,” Sephiroth muttered in response. “You were desperate to be forgiven; it suited you.”

              Cloud opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a brief kiss.

              Sephiroth just barely pulled away, his nose against Cloud’s, his lips still ghosting over the blonde’s.            

              “You’re always at your most gorgeous when you’re desperate.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sefikura + 'you were supposed to talk me out of this'"

              “You’re supposed to talk me out of this,” Sephiroth hissed, looking down at Cloud, who snorted in response.

              “In what world would I do that?” he said, breathless despite his sarcasm.

              “In any sane one,” Sephiroth answered. “This is a terrible idea, I don’t know why I followed through on it.”

              “You followed through,” Cloud said carefully, deliberately, “because you’ve been away on missions for the last _month_.”

              “That doesn’t excuse hauling you into a broom closet,” Sephiroth said, lips just barely turning into a frown.

              “It does when it involves kissing you after I’ve been waiting a _month_ ,” Cloud said, slow and patient, but with the slightest edge of frustration. He missed Sephiroth, missed him dearly—they hadn’t been apart for so long since their relationship had begun. He loved talking with him, missed the easy flow of their discussion, the equally easy blocks of companionable silence. As much as he missed conversation, he missed _this_ , he missed being pressed up against him, barely any room between them. He missed Sephiroth’s hands on his hips, gentle as if afraid to bruise, but firm and deliberately holding him where Sephiroth wanted him. He missed these breathless moments between kisses—he missed them even more when they weren’t filled with arguments, _especially_ arguments that involved Sephiroth trying to leave.

              “Really, we should both—”

              “Would you shut _up_ and come here,” Cloud bit, finally out of patience. He reached up, grabbed the fine hairs at the base of Sephiroth’s neck, yanking him down far enough that Cloud could kiss him again. The momentum made them stumble, Cloud’s foot ending up in a thankfully empty bucket. Sephiroth pulled his hands from Cloud’s hips to catch himself, though one hand landed on a broom handle that skidded beneath his palm, making him fumble for balance all over again. This didn’t seem to bother Cloud, despite the way that they were now firmly pressed together, the lines of their bodies matching point for point. Perhaps _because_ they were now pressed together.

              His kisses turned into greedy, demanding things, his hands leaving Sephiroth’s hair to wrap around his neck, despite the way that he had to stand on his toes to reach. Despite Sephiroth’s good sense, despite knowing that this was certainly a bad idea, that they needed to leave and reconvene somewhere safer, his office, his apartments, pretty much anywhere else, Sephiroth lost himself in their kiss. It _had_ been a month, after all.

              And after a month, could anyone really blame him when he reached down, picked Cloud up, and pinned him against the wall? The blond certainly wasn’t complaining, if the way he instantly wrapped his legs around Sephiroth’s waist was any indicator. Their kisses took an edge of urgency, of desperation, as if now that they were finally reunited, they had little time left together. When they finally pulled apart to breathe, Cloud’s head falling back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath, Sephiroth only lowered his head, kissing down Cloud’s neck, yanking that infuriating scarf out of the way. Cloud breathed his name like a prayer, pulling him as close as he could, eyes fluttering shut. He gasped again as Sephiroth sucked a high, red mark on to his neck that would be a struggle to hide, even with that scarf. He was about to demand something, anything, just _more_ when it was all ruined.

              A janitor opened the door.

              Both Cloud and Sephiroth froze, looking like deer in headlights. Sephiroth recovered quickly, raising an eyebrow, daring the man to say something about what he’d stumbled upon.

              “I’ll—I’ll come back later,” the man said, voice a frightened squeak, before he slammed the door shut and hurried away.

              The two sighed in relief, but the moment was ruined. Sephiroth pressed his forehead lightly to Cloud’s as they both tried to catch their breath.

              “I told you this was a bad idea.”

              “Oh, bite me,” Cloud said, though he sounded too breathless for the words to have any real fire.

              “I’m planning on it,” Sephiroth said, voice a purr as he stole one final kiss before putting Cloud down.

              Cloud huffed in response as the two tugged on their clothes, finger combed their hair, trying to look like they had been doing anything _other_ than making out in a broom closet.

              “Maybe I _should_ have talked you out of it.”

              All that earned him was a sharp pinch on the ass before Sephiroth strode out of the closet as if he had every business to be in there in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want your pity, I want your absence."

               Cloud had only ever been to the Science Department once before. It had been the final part of his SOLDIER exam: the test of his mako sensitivity. He hated the department with a loathing because it had been the reason he failed the exam. His written exam had been excellent. His physical exam had been weak, but within acceptable range. But he was far, far too sensitive to mako for him to join SOLDIER safely; they told him he would get mako poisoning and there was only a 50% chance of recovery from it. He had been barred from the program, despite his willingness to take the risk. He would go to his grave bitter about it, despite Zack’s attempt at comfort, his promise to make him the best SOLDIER that never was. No matter how good he got, he just wouldn’t be up to par without enhancements, and that was the one thing Zack couldn’t help him with. He still took Zack up on the offer, still determined to prove himself, but he would never quite forgive the universe for stripping him of his dream that way.

               Not only did he hate the Science Department, but he had no reason to be there. On any other day, at least, he would have no reason to be there. Today, however, he had received a phone call from  Zack that he couldn’t quite ignore.

               “Spike? I need a favor from you,” Zack had asked.

               “Zack, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not getting in the middle of your prank war with Reno again,” Cloud had answered, already exasperated.

               “While I still think that’s against friend code, it’s also not why I’m calling.”

               “What is it then?”

               “I’m out on a mission.”

               “Zack, you never call unless you’re on a mission.”

               “Alright, okay, jeez, someone’s cranky today.”

               “That’s not exactly how you make me feel like helping you.”

               “ _Spike_. This one’s important, okay? Just hear me out.”

               “Get down to it already.”

               “Sephiroth’s down in the Science Department, he needs someone to pick him up—I usually do it, but since I’m not there…”

               “Zack,” Cloud interrupted. “You want _me_ , an infantryman, to go down to the Science Department, which we’re all but banned from, to collect _the General_ , who under no circumstances needs my help?”

               “Just because he won’t admit it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it,” Zack argued. “All you have to do is help him back to his apartment.”

               “You sure he won’t strangle me for suggesting it?” Cloud asked, tone dry.

               “Tell him I sent you and that he can call if he wants. It’ll be fine, Cloud, I promise.”

               “You owe me,” the blond said. “You owe me big.”

               “Absolutely,” Zack answered with relief. “You’ll do it then?”

               “As long as he lets me,” Cloud countered.

               “You’re a life saver! Thanks man,” Zack said.

               “Sure. See you when you get back.”

               One stupid, stupid phone call and here he was, being stared down by one very impatient, very woozy General.

               “I told you to move aside, cadet,” Sephiroth said, face stern despite the way he wobbled on his feet.

               “I know, I just—”

               “If you know, then _move_ ,” he bit, temper wearing thinner by the second.

               “Zack sent me,” Cloud blurted, since Sephiroth wouldn’t let him get the words out otherwise.

               The man stilled (as much as he could while weak at the knees).

               “Zack sent you,” he repeated, staring Cloud down.

               “He said to come pick you up since he’s on a mission. I’m to help you to your apartment, sir,” Cloud answered. He knew he should be more rattled by the conversation, but even the General was hard to take seriously in that state.

               “I don’t require help,” Sephiroth said, slowly, as if speaking to a child.

               Cloud bit the inside of his cheek to contain his own irritation.

               “He insisted, sir.”

               “Fortunately for us, he isn’t here to continue insisting.”

               Cloud counted to five before answering.

               “How about,” Cloud started, doing his best to appear reasonable, “I just accompany you to your apartment instead of helping. I’d prefer not to go back on my word, sir.”

               Sephiroth grumbled something mostly incomprehensible, but sounded like a condemnation by tone and included the words Angeal, Zack, and honor.

               “Fine,” Sephiroth bit before lurching for the door. He had to catch himself on the frame, but quickly opened the door and led them into the hallway.

               Cloud had to retract his hand after having reached out to catch him before following.

               Their path to the elevator was full of stumbles and halts as Sephiroth clearly struggled to walk, very obviously dizzy and looking faintly green. The elevator ride was completely silent, neither mentioning the way Sephiroth leaned heavily on the side of the elevator.

               The way from the elevator to Sephiroth’s apartment was equally fraught. Cloud knew what he had said, knew he had fulfilled his promise, but couldn’t, in good conscience, leave someone alone in that state.

               “Sir, are you sure you wouldn’t like company? Just for a bit, to be sure you settle okay?” Cloud tried, though his hesitance was clear in his tone.

               Sephiroth swiped a card through the lock on his door and opened it, one hand supporting him from the frame, as he looked down at Cloud.

               “Cadet, I don’t want your pity, I want your absence,” Sephiroth said in that same slow tone, as if Cloud was an idiot, yet again.

               It wore on his temper just as well as it had the first time.

               “It’s not pity, sir, it’s common decency,” Cloud answered with more edge to his tone than might have been wise. “You clearly feel unwell.”

               “And your presence would improve that?” Sephiroth said, coldly raising one eyebrow.

               “It would stop it from getting worse,” Cloud answered, a frown clearly on his lips. “What could it really hurt, sir?”

               The man leveled him with an appraising gaze, the look lasting longer than Cloud was expecting. His temper settled and he was about to shift anxiously from foot to foot when Sephiroth turned back to the door and stepped inside.

               “Fine,” he said. “Close the door behind you and don’t leaving the living room unless told.”

               “Yes sir,” Cloud said, hoping the sarcasm wasn’t too clear in his tone, as he followed into the room.

 

               “Sephiroth?” Zack whisper-called from the doorway.

               “Zack, thank god,” Cloud said, rising from his place on the couch.

               “Cloud?” Zack asked, clearly surprised.

               “That man,” Cloud said, “is an unholy terror.”

               “What? What happened?” Zack asked, coming around the couch, the two sitting next to each other.

               “I got him back up here, he clearly wasn’t well, so I insisted on staying to make sure he was alright. I swear to the gods, he only accepted so he could make himself as big a pain in the ass as possible to get back at me for offering,” Cloud said. “He had me running around the apartment for hours getting him anything he could think of before he went to bed and insisted I stayed here.”

               “Zack,” Sephiroth said from the hallway where he was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “I hope this teaches you not to send cadets in your stead.”

               “Seph,” Zack griped. “I wasn’t here, someone had to—”

               “No one had to,” Sephiroth insisted. “If you recall, I did this for years without assistance. I don’t appreciate you bringing others into my business without my consent.”

               “But—”

               “Am I understood, SOLDIER?”

               “Yeah, yeah,” Zack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My bad.”

               Cloud, having flipped his PHS open to check the time, stood.

               “If that’s everything, then, I’m going to go,” he said, looking between the two. “I was on my way out anyway, drills start in twenty.”

               “Cadet,” Sephiroth said, tone neutral. It seemed that whatever had been wrong had passed.

               “Yes, sir?” Cloud answered, nearly snapping to salute at the tone.

               “I apologize for my behavior,” the General said, earning him a look of shock from both Zack and Cloud. “It was petty to use you to get back at Zack. I’ve just gotten off the phone with your CO, you have the day to yourself.”

               “Thank you, sir,” Cloud said, wonder in his tone.

               “You were very helpful; should you find yourself in need of assistance in the future, my door is open to you,” Sephiroth finished.

               Cloud stared in amazement.

               “Wow, I—I mean, thank you, sir! I’ll keep that in mind,” Cloud said.

               “You’re dismissed.”

               Cloud saluted, waited for Sephiroth to nod in recognition, and left, confused but pleased with the turn of events.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zack and Sephiroth: "We were designed to be disposable."
> 
> Ignores some events in Crisis Core

               Zack had come far from where he started, he knew that. He had left his home in Gongaga, crossed the ocean, achieved his dream of becoming a SOLDIER. He rose through the ranks, passing from third to second to first, not quite with ease, but certainly with determination. He earned his titles, fought tooth and nail to achieve more, reach higher until he had settled, victorious, as Lieutenant General, second in command to The Prodigy, The General. He was proud of all he had accomplished.

               But it was times like these that made it all taste like ash in his mouth.

               “Every man, woman, and child.” That’s what the orders said, leaving no room for negotiation or error. This was to be a complete rout, more of a demolition job than a battle. While Zack never enjoyed killing, he enjoyed the fight. He loved the way his blood all but sung when he was met with a challenge, be it through one skilled enemy or being outnumbered. It narrowed his focus, let him focus on _being_ , not thinking. There was accomplishment in winning those fights, its own small sort of glory. This—this was far from glorious. This turned his stomach sour. These fights were the reason he struggled to sleep at night. He knew it was against orders, knew it would do no good in the end, but he refused to kill anyone who couldn’t fight back. He was perfectly aware that others would mop up after him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to deliver the final blows. Despite the way it made more work for others, no one seemed to blame him for it.

               It was why his heart all but lit up when he received the radio transmission.

               “Zack.”

               “Here, Sephiroth. Over.”

               “Take your men, head thirty clicks west. There’s an incoming company from the north, another from the south. We’re outnumbered, over.”

               “Copy that.”

               With a sharp whistle and a few hand gestures, Zack had rounded up his men and headed toward Sephiroth’s location.

               Either Sephiroth was downplaying the situation, or they had gotten hit hard, and fast.

               It was harder than ever to keep his eye on his men, to keep himself alive long enough to lead them. As they truly got into the fray, there was little each man could do but focus on his own survival, on beating the soldier in front of him, of clawing and scratching and bleeding his way just another step. It took longer than Zack would have liked from him to reach his general, but when he did, the two settled comfortably back to back, knowing that the man behind him was the only one he could truly trust to have his back.

               “I thought you said two companies,” Zack said, out of breath.

               “It was two at the time,” Sephiroth countered.

               The conversation lulled as they lapsed into pure violence, on killing their way through the ranks in front of them. They cleared a small circle that expanded by the minute, stepping over the enemy corpses with practice and precision.

               “They can’t keep just throwing us into this sort of shit,” Zack said, finishing the last man in the area. He and Sephiroth set off at a jog to find the rest of their men. “This is the way we lose all of our men and die ourselves.”

               “There’s nothing to be done,” Sephiroth said with eerie serenity. “We’re designed to be disposable. We fulfill our purpose as best we can and then are replaced by the next SOLDIER in line until the enemy has fallen.”

               Zack gave him a sharp look.

               “You don’t mean that.”

               “I do,” Sephiroth said. “All we can do is continue to live another day, just to spite those who would see us fall.”

               It shocked a laugh out of Zack.

               “You never struck me as the petty sort, Seph,” Zack said, a bit of his good humor restored.

               “Only when it comes to Shinra,” the General countered, the smallest hint of mischief in his eyes.

               Zack couldn’t have been prouder.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm tired of fighting. For once, I want to be fought for."

               This was bad. Cloud knew this was bad. He never had a way with words. He was sarcastic almost too often. He could be downright caustic when it came to it. He was hitting the end of his rope, and that would have been fine, but Tifa wouldn’t _leave_.

               They’d all been in the Operation Room, planning their final strike against Sephiroth, and in that moment of need, their leader rubbed his eyes, said, “I don’t feel good,” and left.

               Silence chased him from the room. Silence, and Tifa. She pestered him with questions the entire way back to his bunk. What was wrong, was he sick, had he been eating, had he been sleeping, was he ignoring her? When they had gotten to his room, he made to slam the door in her face, but she caught it, now as stubborn as she was concerned.

               “Tifa, stop, just stop,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you just give me some time alone?”

               “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

               Cloud blew out a slow breath. If he lost his temper, it was all over. He would be brutal, and awful, and would hurt her, probably badly. He’d regret it as soon as he closed his mouth again, but he knew himself well enough to know that wouldn’t help him keep his mouth shut in the first place.

               “Please, Tifa,” he said, dropping his hand. “Can we talk about this later?”

               “Absolutely not,” she said immediately. Cloud had to force himself not to groan in exasperation. “Something’s wrong, and you’re just going to bottle it up again. You can talk to me, Cloud. I’m your friend.”

               “And I’m an asshole, Tifa,” he said, tossing his hands up helplessly. “If you stay, we’re not gonna talk, I’m going to yell at you, and say a bunch of hurtful things I’m going to regret immediately after, and then you’ll be upset with me, and I’ll be in a worse place than when I started.”

               Tifa rolled her eyes.

               “I’m no delicate flower, Cloud. I can handle it.”

               You know what? She asked for it.

               “The _problem_ , Tifa, is I’m tired of fighting,” he said. It should have sounded whiny, or resigned, or upset, but it just came out angry. “All I’ve ever _done_ is fight. I had to fight through Nibelheim, because everyone but my mom hated me, though she was indifferent at best, and don’t you say that you liked me, because you never liked me enough to help. I had to fight through Shinra, where everyone _still_ hated me, just for a shot at SOLDIER—which I failed at, if you remember. Nibelheim happened, and that might as well have been a warzone. _Hojo_ happened, and I can’t even explain to you what kind of hell that was, every second of every day for five _years_ was a fight just to keep existing. I get out of there, mako-poisoned out of my mind, trying and failing to get control over my own body again, just for Zack—the only person to ever really help me—to die because I was too weak. Crawl away from that and where do I end up? Fighting _your_ stupid fight, getting roped into some bullshit, covert war against Shinra, only to get roped into _another_ bullshit, covert war against Sephiroth, which, by the way, made my own _head_ a battlefield half the time.”

               Cloud, at this point, was pacing, tossing his hands around in angry gestures as he went.

               “I fight, and I fight, and I fight, and what good has it ever done me? I just get pulled around from one hell into another, each one worse than the last, and I’m just _tired_. I want to give up, alright? Is that what you want to hear? Do you feel better now? Because I don’t. I have half a mind to make Cid drop me off at Costa del Sol so I can at least relax until the world ends. You can keep my goddamn sword, I won’t need it.”

               “Cloud,” she said softly. “You don’t mean that.”

               He turned on her.

               “I _don’t?_ ” he snapped, this time walking toward her in anger. “ _You_ can finish this fight. You’ve got the rest of the team. Someone else can play leader—it’s about time someone else carry this group. I’m _done_.”

               “You’re just going to sit back and let the world end?”

               “ _Yes!_ That is _exactly_ what I’m gonna do. It’s probably going to end anyway—Sephiroth’s probably going to annihilate all of us and then smash the meteor into the planet. Let him have it.”

               “Cloud, I know you don’t want to, but there are so many people who can’t fight for themselves.”

               “Why is it _my_ job to fight for the world, huh? No one fights for me.”

               Finally, Tifa looked like she was struck.

               “No— _no_ ,” Cloud said, pointing a finger in her face. “You don’t get to do that. When have you _ever_ fought for me? You didn’t in Nibelheim. I fought for you and your stupid cause with AVALANCHE. You haven’t been fighting for _me_ since, you’ve been fighting for the world, right? All those poor, helpless people who can’t fight for themselves? And don’t you even think about bringing up the Lifestream. You helped because you were there and didn’t have a choice. And besides, that barely even _counts_ as help. I was hiding behind Zack for a reason, you understand that, right? Because _I don’t want to fucking be here_. This entire world has done nothing but take from me. The only one who has _ever_ given me anything was Zack, and guess what? He’s dead. _Because_ of me. And that feels _so_ great, by the way, thank you _so_ much for bringing me back, so I can grieve behind closed doors because no one wants to see their great _leader_ break down any more than he already has. So I can grieve in the middle of the night and cry to sleep like a goddamn child, because I’ve got no other time to do it.”

               “Cloud, I—I didn’t know—I—I _want_ to help—”

               “Godsdammit, Tifa, would you just give it a _rest_? You feel guilty because you never helped in Nibelheim. Probably _more_ guilty now that you know for sure I still remember it. You’ve never once helped me because you cared, it was just to make you feel better, like I’m some sort of charity case.”

               In the silence that hung after, Cloud tossed his sword onto his bed.

               “Get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

               Tifa backed up and put her arms across the door, blocking his path.

               “Cloud, you can’t. We need you.”

               “You really don’t.”

               “We really do.”

               “Let me rephrase— _I don’t care_.”

               “Cloud, please.”

               “Tifa, _no_. You have no idea how much you’re asking of me.”

               “I’m starting to get an idea. Please, Cloud. Anything I can do to help, _anything_ , just please don’t leave. _I_ need you.”

               He looked up at her, and he deflated.

               “It’s all about what everyone else needs, huh?” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. Tifa flinched, not having intended it to sound that way, but it was too late to take it back. Cloud backed away and went to go sit on his bed, dropping his head into his hands. Tifa was hesitant, but went to sit next to him.

               “I just—I’m so tired of fighting. For once—for _once_ , I want to be fought for.”

               Tifa had a million things on the tip of her tongue. That she would fight tooth and nail for him. That they would all fight for him. That they would die for him. But none of it was what he wanted to hear, or what he meant. He already knew that they entered battle together, that they had each other’s backs. He wanted someone to fight for his sake, to give something, probably anything, up to help _him_. And there was nothing she could say that would convince him any of them would do that. They were all too focused on Sephiroth, and any of their actions could be written off as needing him for the fight. She was beginning to see what he meant.

               Quietly, she reached out and put her hand on his knee.

               Quietly, he reached down and took it.

               He squeezed her hand. Nothing was solved, and he didn’t necessarily feel better, but it was something. Maybe even a start.


End file.
